


June 2019 Writing Challenge: Howl's Moving Castle

by verfound



Series: June 2019 Writing Challenge [7]
Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Family Fluff, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life, Sophie is Trouble Ok, Transmogrification, Untrained Magic, accidental magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 05:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: Two ficlets written for a writing challenge, in which Market Chipping wonders why the shop's flowers are so beautiful and Sophie really needs to watch what she says.





	1. 06 June 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Note: These were written in a notebook as a writing challenge for June 2019. The goal was thirty days, thirty prompts, thirty minutes (which is why some might seem abrupt: time limit). I’d hit a bit of a dry patch and just wanted to write. These are unedited and mostly just fluff pieces, but I really enjoyed some of them and hey: what’s the point of fic if you don’t share, right? Even if it’s goofball trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: This Good Dirt  
> Fandom: Howl’s Moving Castle (Bookverse)  
> Character/Pairing: Howl Pendragon/Sophie Pendragon  
> Rating: K / G / All Ages  
> Notes: Just to cover all infringement bases, that bit about the hair is a direct quote from Jones’s Tough Guide to Fantasyland, which is an absolute joy any fantasy/sci-fi fan will get a kick out of (p. 39, “Colour Coding: Hair”, specifically).

The flowers from the little shop in Market Chipping, the one where the hat shop used to be, are the most beautiful blooms to be found for miles. Some say it’s because the owners procured an enchantment from the Wizard Howl, or perhaps because they had struck a deal with him. After all, it wasn’t long after Horrible Howl’s moving castle had disappeared from the hills beyond town that the new shop had opened. That was quickly refuted, others claiming that it was the shop owner herself – the young woman with the red-gold hair – who was an enchantress (everyone knew red hair _always_ entails magical powers, even if these are only latent, after all).

The young man who helped in the shop only laughed when he heard that.

“Oh, Sophie’s a witch, all right!” he laughed. “The worst witch there is! She’s even bested Horrible Howl!”

Those rumors quickly died after learning the shopkeep was none other than Sophie Hatter herself. Most of them had known her all her life and knew there wasn’t a lick of magic in that girl (despite what her hair might say).

The man who sometimes helped in the shop – Sophie’s new husband, it was said – had claimed Sophie was more likely to _kill_ the plants than enchant them, and the secret smile he’d shared with the young woman had only served to confuse the couple he’d been speaking to, who thought Sophie seemed to do rather well with the plants, actually.

“Enough of you,” Sophie had tutted, turning her husband towards the back of the shop. “I can never get anything done when you menace the customers. Go work on your spells!”

(Which had, of course, led credence to the opinion that there was at the least _something_ magical going on in that shop.)

She had finally let slip that, really, there was no secret at all. The meadow she grew her flowers in had been tended to by both Royal Wizards, and as such she was blessed with the best flowers in Ingary.

“That’s all,” she said, smiling at the Mayor, who was purchasing a brilliant bouquet of orange and purple. “Royal Wizards, so a touch of magic. Well, that and some good dirt.”

“The dirt’s only good because of the touch of magic,” Howl said the next morning as they followed behind the enchanted bucket. “The Waste was a waste before Ben got to it.”

“You should know better than to insult the dirt,” Sophie tsked. “It’s rather finicky. Likely to swallow you right up.”

There was a squelching noise, and she turned to find Howl had sunk to his waist in mud, gilded sleeves trailing miserably in the muck. He gave her a rather put out look, but she only smiled as she considered him.

“There you are,” she said with a laugh. “Good dirt.”

“Sophie!” he whined, and she paused to consider him a moment.

“You know, Calcifer once mentioned your _true_ hair was mud-colored,” she commented. His face grew as pale as his flaxen locks, his jaw dropping.

“You wouldn’t…”

“I think I should rather like to see that,” she said with a smirk, and he shrieked as the mud swallowed him up. He emerged a moment later, howling and filthy. She gave him another considering look before turning to follow the bucket.

“Huh,” she said. “Perhaps I was wrong. I do believe I rather prefer the blond.”


	2. 28 June 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Old School  
> Fandom: Howl’s Moving Castle (Bookverse)  
> Character/Pairing: Howl Pendragon/Sophie Pendragon, Morgan Pendragon  
> Rating: K / G / All Ages  
> Notes: Sophie is my favorite type of witch: immensely powerful but utterly useless.

Morgan had been crying for the better part of half an hour, and Sophie was at wit’s end. She had tried _everything_ : his nappy was clean, he’d refused a bottle, he’d been highly unimpressed by her attempts at peek-a-boo, the stuffed bear had ended up in Calcifer’s grate, and rocking had made him wail all the louder. She was out of ideas, and her miserable husband was being no help whatsoever.

“Oh, Sophie, let’s have a _baby_ ,” she bit in a perfect mimicry of the lout. She continued to aggressively pat Morgan’s back as she paced a trench in the floor before Calcifer’s grate. The fire demon wondered if the poor kid just wanted his mum to stop hitting him. “It will be ever such fun! Our greatest adventure yet!”

“And it has been,” Howl’s voice came from the door, making her spin to face him. He looked entirely too amused and entirely too put together for how frazzled she felt. “I recall especially enjoying trying to make him. But, really, cariad, I’m trying to work. Can’t you calm him a bit?”

It was her very last straw.

She tossed her head back and screamed, bulbous tears spilling from her clenched eyes. Her crying just made their son cry louder, much to her distress.

“I am _trying_ , you worthless excuse for a spouse! I could use some help, if you’d be so kind!” she cried. Morgan reached up and yanked on her hair, and she snapped. “Oh, I wish you were a cat again!”

Sophie wondered – briefly – what it said about her as a mother that she’d rather tend to a kitten than her human child.

“Ah, Sophie, dear…” Howl tried to cut in, but she snapped her eyes open to lock him with a blazing stare.

“And _you_ , you…you…you _slitherer_ , would make a better snake than a husband!” she shot. She barely had time to register his look of surprise before he vanished with a gentle _pop!_ Her eyes widened in dread as they fell to the floor, and she became aware of two very pressing matters.

The first was that she _really_ needed to learn to be more mindful of her words. You would have thought she’d have learned by now, but apparently not. She was only just registering the sudden, welcome silence (Morgan had always preferred being a cat to a human) when she realized the baby in her arms had been replaced with a kitten, and the husband in blue-and-silver sleeves had been replaced with a snake in blue-and-silver scales. He looked quite put out, for a snake, and Sophie couldn’t really blame him.

She was beginning to contemplate the appropriateness of the admittedly antiquated image – a witch with a cat instead of a witch with a baby – when she became aware of the second pressing matter: Morgan had leapt from her arms and, with typical kitten fascination, was stalking towards his father. She yelped and scooped him back up as the snake made a beeline for safety under the table.

“Oh, no, Morgan – we do not eat daddy!” she scolded. “Oh, be human – be _human_ , the both of you!”

With another _pop!_ Morgan was once again a screaming toddler, and a series of curses came from beneath the table as Howl’s sudden growth smacked his head into its underside.

“Sophie, darling, we really _must_ discuss your training,” he grumbled as he crawled out.


End file.
